Inside the Mind of a Murderer
by normalisboring
Summary: *PART 2 of 3 is UP* 10 years after the war, Dilandau has killed Van and is put on trial. Told from his lawyer's POV. R for language.
1. Confrontation

Inside the Mind of a Murderer: Confrontation

My heart sank as my eyes skimmed over the contents of the short, but formal letter. It read as follows:

__

Dear Madame,

I entreat you to take the case of my close acquaintance, Dilandau Albatou, who is charged with murder of the first degree. Please, there are no other attorneys in Asturia that will accept the case. You are his only chance.

Sincerely,

Sir Allen Schezar, Knight Caeli

I, like everyone else in Gaea, had heard of the brutal murder of Van Fanel, king of Fanelia. He was found facedown in his bedroom, badly burned, with several long cuts and gashes all over his body, and crude messages carved into his flesh.

There was no questioning who did it. Dilandau remarked to the officer who took him away, "I've wanted to do that for ever so _long_."

It was public knowledge that he was originally Allen Schezar's gentle sister, Celena, and that the Zaibach sorcerers took the girl away and changed her into him. Escaping from Allen, the writer of the letter, she just recently reverted to Dilandau after the war ten years ago.

All the citizens of Palas, including myself, knew the case to be lost. After all, who would defend him, the cruel, ruthless sadist that he was?

That's where I came in. Ah, what misfortune it is to be an attorney.

I couldn't possibly accept such a ludicrous request, nor could I refuse so eloquent a plea. If I took the case, I was bound to lose, and if I didn't, I was to ruin my perfect reputation of never turning down a potential client.

Two hours later found me trotting to the city jail, asking to see the prisoner by the name of Dilandau Albatou.

"Who're you?" demanded a burly, middle-aged man standing guard.

"His legal representative."

He regarded me with an incredulous look. "You, a mere wisp of a woman, with that blood-sucker?! Good luck, lady. You'll need it." 

"I think I know myself better than you do, **guard**," I heard myself growl. If only I had been as brave as I sounded then!

He shrugged. "Come along, then." The ring of keys in his belt noisily clanged against each other in the otherwise dead silence of the corridor we walked through.

"He's in there." The man jerked his head in the general direction of the cell. He hesitated. "Are you sure about this?"

"Positive."

The iron door creaked open, and I cautiously slipped in. I glanced back at the older man, uncertain of what to do next. Usually, I told guards to leave my client and me, but alone with the infamous Dilandau Albatou? I wasn't so sure about that.

But the decision had been made for me.

The bearded man locked the door again as soon as I entered and scampered off, the scoundrel, like the devil was going to get him. And maybe he was.

The cell was grey and silent. My own heartbeat sounded like the thundering of the guymelefs. I had heard tales of the striking general, lightning-swift in both his movements and his temper, with eyes like blood. Though they were probably tall tales, they struck fear in the pit of my stomach nonetheless.

I rounded the corner, and thus gained my first glimpse of Dilandau.

The descriptions did not exaggerate.

Eyes the color of garnets, with the limpid quality of a clear glass of wine, held me rapt with a sort of liquid fire, unable to stir from my spot. A predatorial smirk crept across a perfect alabaster complexion. His hair, akin to waves of mercury, shone when he walked toward me. Flawless in his movements, flowing in his stride, he was the manifestation of intrigue. I say so because I didn't know _what _to make of him, exactly.

By the sea serpent Jeture. . . How was I supposed to work with a man like that? I inwardly wondered.

A quiet chuckle escaped from Dilandau's lips as he approached. "Allen sent for you, didn't he? He always had a taste for blondes." Gloved fingers reached out to touch my hair.

I jerked my head away, snapping harshly, "This is highly inappropriate behavior, Mr. Albatou! I **_demand_** that you change your conduct!"

He looked amused. "You have a sharp tongue, little girl."

I was about to shoot back some insult, but my words were stifled by his lips on mine, taking advantage of my open mouth to slip his tongue inside.

Still in surprise, I vaguely realized he was kissing me. Then the side of me that made up the lawyer, strong, obstinate, and willful, briskly broke away and smacked him.

I slapped Dilandau Albatou. I _slapped_ Dilandau Albatou. I **_SLAPPED_** Dilandau Albatou, he who was once the pride of Zaibach, the terror of the Allies! Jeture help me.

I pasted on what I hoped to be a formidable mask and glared defiantly back at him.

Still clutching his cheek, the corners of his mouth twitched upward ever so slightly.

How **dare** he laugh at me?!

I pulled back my hand to strike him again for his impudence, but white fingers wrapped around my wrist in a movement too swift for my eyes to catch.

"Don't play with fire," Dilandau whispered softly, a dangerous tone creeping into his voice, "or you'll get burned." The man twisted my arm hard enough to make me bite back a scream. "Understand?"

"Yes," I muttered through gritted teeth.

Dilandau let go of me brusquely. "So, what are you doing here?" he asked casually, as if we were having a picnic.

"I'm your lawyer." I winced, rubbing my sore arm absently.

Needless to say, I was extremely offended when he burst out laughing.

Sexist ass.

But it turned out that I had misinterpreted him, because his next comment was: "Allen's really going to all this trouble for his beloved little sister? I wonder why he won't just accept the fact that she's already dead."

My interest was sparked. "How did she die? How was it possible?"

Dilandau answered vaguely, looking out the cell window, "Celena was like a butterfly trapped in the hands of a human. She was fragile, yes, but she needed to be free. It was Allen that killed her in the end. He stopped thinking of her as a sister long ago, instead unconsciously pretending she was a precious glass figurine, to be kept safe and out of harm's away. As the butterfly withers in the smothering so-called "care" of the hand, so her spirit was subdued.

"I coaxed Celena every day since the body changed into her to let me be in control so I could finally kill Van, but she would not relent, saying he was 'Brother's friend' and 'Allen would surely disapprove'. But nightly she would tell me because I was the only one who understood her, of how he wasn't the perfect brother she had imagined, how horrible she finally realized he was. Every time her mental voice grew fainter, more obscure and difficult to hear.

"Then one morning, the day before I murdered Van, I woke up in my own form. I searched for her in my mind, but she was gone. Celena's mind had died, taking away both her form and her spirit, and leaving me with the body to myself. Allen was shocked, obviously, when I emerged out of his little sister's chambers, but he refused to acknowledge the truth."

He paused. "Why am I telling you this? There are only two other people who know of this besides myself; one is dead, the other is in denial."

"Don't ask me, Mr. Albatou. I am only your attorney, nothing more."

Dilandau scowled. "I don't need an attorney, and don't call me 'Mr. Albatou'."

"Of course you do, Mr. Albatou. And no, I absolutely refuse to call you anything other than Mr. Albatou," ! added just to spite him.

"And what am I supposed to call you? Miss Impertinent-Lawyer?"

"That's _Misses_ to you, sir."

"You're married?"

"I'm a widow."

"So young? How old are you, anyway? Nineteen?"

"Twenty-three."

"How did your husband die?"

"He was a soldier."

"I'm sorry. I might have been the one that killed him."

"Well, apologies don't get us anywhere, do they? And why are you so inquisitive all of a sudden?" I shot back briskly.

He shrugged. "One more question, if you'll oblige me. What do they call you?"

"Oh, all sorts of things. The people that lose to me call me bitch, harlot, whore," I said sarcastically.

"I want your _real_ name, woman!"

"Nahaia Ashri. My maiden name was Galine."

"Rather pretty name for one who is more like a serpent than a flower."

"With my forked tongue and venomous fangs? Very funny, Mr. Albatou."

"Why thank you, Mrs. Ashri! I thought it was quite clever myself."

We bantered back and forth for the rest of the night, very little of the talking to do with legal matters. I must admit, I found him rather charming, in a strange sort of way. He had a different air about him than anyone I had ever met before that had a likely chance of being executed.

Before I left the cell, he sort of smirked at me and remarked, "Shall out next encounter find us merely chatting, or in discussion that actually concerns my case?"

I harrumphed, snarled a string of curse words at him, and left the jail in a flurry, yet the next moon found me his cell again.


	2. Trial

In the Mind of a Murderer: Trial

Author's notes: I'm BAAAAAAAAAAAACCCCCCK!!!! Well, I wrote out this part quite a while ago and never posted it. Due to my limited knowledge on the proceedings of a trial, this is all you get. So bleh. The last chapter will be the verdict. Thanks to everybody who reviewed! I really appreciate it!

Disclaimer: (I keep forgetting these things…) I don't own ANYTHING in this story, except maybe for the plot and the lawyer lady. So there. Don't sue meeeeee…!

__

How I hate Asturian courthouses. My livelihood depends on these uncomfortably formal rooms, on these pathetic little men with the white powdered wigs that cower behind a mask of stone, and yet I loathe them. I thought, nearly squirming in the stiff-backed wooden chair. It was with great difficulty that I kept still in my seat, partly due to discomfort and partly due to anxiety. _I will win this case. I will win this case… So why am I so nervous?_

Because it's hopeless, that's why! They have a near-confession from him, a motive, and we have **nothing**! Oh shit, I'm talking to myself now…

Dilandau sat beside me, as composed and nonchalant as ever. I sneaked a sidelong glance at his expression, though, and plainly read in his eyes that he was bored, occasionally shooting fleeting looks at the jury or audience that was filing in the doors.

And was there ever an audience. The last time Asturia dealt with a case this large had taken place before my lifetime. Usually, international cases were handled by their corresponding monarch, but on this occasion, it was the reigning king that was killed, and there was no one of high enough authority (that is, without causing a protest or revolt) to judge the former Dragon Slayer's fate. (Asturia is known for its court system.) Add that to the notorious Dilandau Albatou, and you've got one "hell of a crowd", as my deceased husband would have said.

"Remember our talk," I whispered into the albino's ear.

"How could I not? Our best chance is to plead guilty by reason of insanity, because I nearly confessed to that guard who took me in, why oh why did I have to do that, otherwise I still might have had a shot at being innocent, act as crazy as possible, and go under the pretense that having to share the same body as Celena Schezar drove me a little mad…" He shifted to a high, girlish voice in mockery of me.

"Oh shut up. I do NOT sound like that!" I hissed lowly. "Curse you and your perfect memory!"

"It's about time you finally admitted I was perfect." He smiled smugly.

"How dare you manipulate my words?! Why you pompous, vain little-"

He cut me off with a finger pressed against my lips and a sarcastic grin. "Now, now, little lady. Wouldn't want to corrupt the minds of all the little ones… would you?"

Most regrettably, he was right; I spotted a young toddler of maybe four years old in the swarming crowd.

As I turned back to make another insulting comment, Dilandau commented slyly, "The trial is starting."

And it was.

Dilandau was summoned to the witness stand and asked by the bailiff, "Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth?"

Only I saw him cross his fingers when he replied with feigned innocence, "Why of course! How could you have ever thought otherwise?"

I inwardly groaned.

The prosecutor was up first.

"Mr. Albatou, did you murder Van Fanel?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Sixteen reasons: he scarred my face, and the fifteen Dragon Slayers that he murdered in front of my eyes."

"So these Dragon Slayers…they were close to you?"

Dilandau remained silent.

"Answer the question, Mr. Albatou," the judge prodded.

"I suppose," the albino replied evasively.

"Yes, or no, Mr. Albatou? It's a simple question."

"Yes."

"Would you venture to say that they were your friends?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"They were my soldiers and nothing more." But an almost undetectable twitch of Dilandau's lips suggested otherwise.

"And what of Celena?"

"We were close, yes. But it is difficult to be friends with someone who knows some of your darkest secrets."

The prosecutor nodded, as if he didn't know all this information already. "How could she know?"

"She was trapped in my mind and could therefore access my thoughts if they weren't guarded. No one could have gotten to her there."

"Why do you use the past tense? Is she no longer in your mind?"

"She died."

"How did she die?"

"Schezar killed her."

The court flew into chaos. The judge hammered and hammered his gavel, while the onlookers gasped and murmured.

Allen bolted out of his seat and screamed, his voice unnaturally shrill, "_Liar!_ I did no such thing! I bet you took advantage of her condition!"

"That sounds more like something you would do, Allen." Dilandau remarked with an air of mocking serenity.

The knight of Asturia turned an angry crimson. "How **dare** you, you bastard! You have no right to talk to me like that, I, who saved you from Van's blade during the war!"

The albino's teasing façade and the calm it brought with it shattered like glass.

"Nor do you have a right to call _me_ a "bastard", you filthy whore! If I wasn't connected to your sister, you would have wished me dead as well!" Dilandau suddenly snarled back, overturning the chair as he rapidly stood up. There was a dangerous glint in his eyes.

"DILANDAU! SIT THE FUCK DOWN, OR I WILL KILL YOU **MYSELF**!" I yelled at him unexpectedly. Screw the little kids. It's their mothers' fault they were brought here.

At last, he broke away, casting a fleeting look at me, and he burst out laughing. "Why of course, _mother dear_!" He shot me a sweet smile coated with sarcasm and obediently plopped down on the stiff wooden chair.

The uproar died down as the judge banged the gavel repeatedly. I half expected it to break in two.

"Sir Allen Schezar", (who was still standing), "if you make another outburst like that again, I will order you sent out of this courtroom, understood? That goes for you too, Dilandau Albatou."

The blonde nodded meekly and sat back down, humiliated.

The silver-headed man did not even do so much as to blink.

The flustered prosecutor once again began his questioning. "Mr. Albatou, Did you hear voices in your head during the war?

"You mean besides my own?"

"OF COURSE!!" He boomed angrily.

"You really have to be more specific."

"Mister Albatou," the judge commented dryly, "Please answer the questions, and _only_ the questions. No side comments are necessary."

Dilandau leisurely replied, "Whatever you say, your honor."

"What did they say to you?" the prosecutor continued.

"There was only one, and she told me I don't like you," he snarled irritably at him.

"MISTER Albatou, I thought you understood that there were to be no side comments or jokes in this courtroom!"

"I understand perfectly, your honor. It's just that I simply see no point in these questions. It's been established that Celena exists. As much as I hate him, Schezar over there," he jerked his head in the vague direction of the spectators, "can vouch for it. That is…unless you doubt the word of a Knight Caeli…" Dilandau quirked his eyebrows suggestively.

I buried my face underneath my arms. _Just shut up your bloody mouth for once! _I cursed.

The judge roared angrily at this impertinent reply, clearly at the end of his patience.

I thought I could hear his eye twitch, even though my own eyes were squeezed shut. _He sounds much like a grizzly bear_, I mused absently.

The trial went downhill from there.


End file.
